


By Love Bound

by crossedsabers10S



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Explicit Language, F/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, because that town is a mess, i mean she doesn't care but still, im trying to be funny and serious about mystic falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossedsabers10S/pseuds/crossedsabers10S
Summary: Siegrid Mikaelson, undead shieldmaiden, wakes from her coffin to the utterly drama-ridden mess that is Mystic Falls.She blames her husband for this.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 88





	By Love Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent in the extreme. I’ve been reading ‘Klaus’ wife being in a coffin fics’ lately and I wanted to try my hand. Although this mostly turned into ‘how many ways can Siegrid be amused by people making things harder on themselves.’
> 
> Anyways, not a serious fic. Probably not going to be more than a one-shot.

Annoyingly enough, waking up in strange places with the taste of blood in her mouth was not an uncommon occurrence for Siegrid. It’s happened enough times that all she does now is sigh.

“Again?” she mutters to herself, then promptly grimaces at the burning sensation plaguing her throat. “Fuck,” she rasps out, and desperately wants a drink.

There is a hollow feeling in her chest and her limbs are heavy and stiff. The burning in her throat flares with every breath. Taking a moment to breathe, the scent of old dust and herbs filling her nose, she stares up at the ceiling.

Again. Her husband has betrayed her again. There is no other explanation for this. She had thought they were _past this_. She thought they would stand together, as they have centuries before.

Siegrid was not something to be protected, a pretty trinket to lock away in a box for years on end.

He was her husband, his enemies were hers, father in law or not.

She shakes her head, neck cracking with the motion. It doesn’t matter now. Her husband isn’t here. Whether he is in the next room or on the next continent, she will find him, then….

Then they will talk. And if Niklaus refuses to listen to reason? She will remind him that they are equals in any relationship, but especially their marriage. They had sworn it before family and the gods.

And Siegrid does not abide by broken vows.

Stretching, she pushes herself so that she’s sitting upright and takes in her surroundings. This time is already an improvement over the last, as she is alone and not surrounded by an armed force.

In fact, the room is empty save for herself. It’s odd. Usually when such a thing happens, it’s to see either her husband’s best attempt at contriteness or to see whoever has captured her making either threats or demands.

And as her husband isn’t here….

Siegrid rolls her shoulders and eyes the room with a new wariness.

Dark paneled wood and a richly colored carpet greet her, the only light coming from the curtain covered window on the far side of the room. Sunlight flickers across the floor as a soft breeze moves the curtain cloth.

The window is open, which is …perhaps there is a containment spell around the building? Some magical trap that springs to life as soon as she tries to leave?

At least it’s not a dungeon this time, she muses, looking around the room. No handy weapons, though.

She hauls herself up and over the edge of her resting place and, on shaky legs, stumbles towards the only door.

Silky cloth drags on the floor behind her, making it even harder to walk. Every two steps she has to either rest or untangle herself from the unnecessarily long train of the skirt.

Honestly, Siegrid rather dislikes the numerous ruffles. That and, paired with the fact that it's ivory colored silk, it makes her feel like she’s some lord’s virgin daughter about to be ravished by some rake of a suitor.

She’s the one that does the ravishing, thank you.

This is not the clothing she went to sleep in. The last thing she remembers wearing was a pair of bloomers and nothing else save for her—

Her hand shoots upwards and she grabs at her necklace. The charm hanging from it’s thick chain is present and she sighs in relief at its familiar presence. Well, at least nobody’s messed with _that_. The day was looking up already. Now, if only she wasn’t wearing this blasted dress….

Stumbling again, she curses. Right. This thing has got to go.

With one quick motion—which was harder than it should have been—Siegrid rips the skirt until it leaves her knees bare.

Probably not the most appropriate look, but she can’t really bring herself to care.

Kicking aside the silk ruffles, she makes her way to the door at a much quicker pace than before. Her legs are still wobbly from her confinement, and everything aches, but she’s steady enough to try and get some answers.

She turns the knob, and with one last long look back at her coffin, exits the room.

And is immediately surprised by the lack of guard. Is she being underestimated?

Siegrid might not have her husband’s reputation—because she was not a volatile lunatic—but she at least merited a guard!

Once she takes a few steps forwards, she hears voices echoing up from below her, none she can recognize.

Now, to announce herself and let them know she is awake or to remain silent?

One option allows for stealth, but the other opens a line of communication and she is rather curious on how she’s ended up here—wherever here is—and why her captors have awakened her.

“Hello,” she calls out into the hallway. Something makes a muffled thump beneath her feet and the voices hush. Rubbing at the pain in her throat she tries again. “¿Holá? Hej? Bonjour?”

There are no guards, no envoys, no obvious security measures—and it seems they hadn’t had a plan for when she woke. It is an odd situation all around.

The voices pick up again, but more frantic this time. It almost sounds like they’re arguing. It’s odd that she can’t make out their words, but perhaps she has misjudged their distance.

Siegrid bemoans their hospitality skills, but soon locates a staircase. Hopefully her would-be—jailors? Hosts? At this point she was leaning towards incompetent children—wouldn’t mind her joining them.

And hopefully they would have something to drink.

“I can hear you,” she tells them.

They fall silent again.

“I thought you put up a sound-dampening spell!” A girl shrieks, this loud and clear.

Oh, there’s a witch. Good to know. And that explains the smell. She can recall burning sage being traditional in such spells.

The sound-dampening must be why Siegrid can’t pick up their heartbeats, but apparently it’s not strong enough to mask voices.

Maybe the spell failed? At least partly?

“I did,” the probable-witch defends herself. “It should have made it so her hearing isn’t any better than a human’s!”

Or not.

Maybe this witch just forgot that, while human’s senses were nowhere near as sharp as a vampire’s, they weren’t deaf.

A man laughs. “A human’s?” he asks, sarcasm lining every word. “So, you mean she can hear every word we’re saying from the top of the stairwell, right now?”

“Something like that,” Siegrid responds, a slight smirk twisting her lips.

“Oh, that’s—that’s great,” a different man says.

Siegrid huffs a laugh and grips the banister. Carefully, she walks down the stairs. As soon as she hits the ground floor the spell stops coming into effect and her hearing sharpens. Suddenly she can pick up five heartbeats, three of them belonging to vampires, the other two human.

Rounding a corner, she steps into what looks like a drawing room and finally comes face-to-face with her hosts.

But only four of them, one of the human heartbeats having retreated to another room.

“Siegrid Mikaelson,” she greets with a nod. Not entirely accurate, but her hosts are speaking English, so she uses her husband’s family’s morderized surname. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Might as well be polite. Siegrid is on the back foot, in an unknown location surrounded by people whose skills and motives she doesn’t know.

Yet.

She’ll wait for them to speak to pass judgement. Whether these are allies, enemies, or uninformed bystanders, she’ll give them their chance.

And if they prove enemies? Then there is little in this world that can kill her. And she is far past old enough to take care of herself in any kind of fight.

They all exchange looks.

One of the vampires steps forwards, a dark haired man with icy eyes and an icier smile. “Damon Salvatore,” he returns. “That’s my brother, Stefan.”

The other male vampire nods, this one gazing intensely at her, before turning to his brother. “ _Another_ Original, Damon?” he asks, tone annoyed.

“Yes,” Damon says tersely, smile still in place.

“Like we need another one of them running around,” Stefan scoffs. He glances at Siegrid. “No offense.”

Siegrid only raises one eyebrow. Looks like her family have involved themselves with the locals. And have angered them. Not anything unusual, then.

Damon slings an arm around his brother’s shoulders and smiles charmingly. “Don’t mind him,” he tells her. “He’s shy.” Then he blatantly pinches his brother's side in warning. Stefan noticeably stiffens. Siegrid’s lips twitch.

“And that,” Damon tries to continue, “is—“

The human in the room interrupts him. “Bonnie,” she says, with a narrow eyed suspicious glare in Siegrid’s direction.

“Bonnie,” the last unnamed vampire in the room scolds, “be nice!” The woman turns to Siegrid and gives her a bubbly smile that does nothing to obscure the wariness in her eyes. “I’m Caroline, and I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’ve met the rest of your family,” she says without losing the friendly expression.

“How is that nice?” Bonnie asks Caroline.

Caroline shrugs at her. “I said nice, not dishonest.”

“Right,” Damon tries to redirect the conversation. “Now that that’s out of the way--”

Siegrid levels a look over his shoulder, where the last heartbeat lay hidden behind a wall. Stefan twitches and zips over until her view is blocked. Siegrid doesn't so much as twitch at his suddenly murderous stare.

Damon only smiles harder. Siegrid was starting to get the impression that the expression was foreign to his face. “Oh, yeah. Elena,” he calls, “why don’t you come on out?”

“Damon!” Caroline tries to protest, but falls silent when Damon turns that smile on her.

And then a face long dead walks into the room and Siegrid has to lock her knees to remain standing. Thankfully, no one seems to have noticed her moment of weakness, instead all eyes were drawn to the Tatia-look-alike.

Tatia’s ghost comes to a stop between Stefan and Damon and gives an awkward enough smile that the spell is broken. Tatia would have never looked so hesitant.

“You're not--” Siegrid starts and then stops herself. “Elena?” she guesses, wryly. She knows about Doppelgangers. She has met Katerina Petrova, she should not be this surprised to see _that_ face again.

She’ll blame the fact that she's only recently awoken after who knows how long.

Elena waves. “Hi,” she says.

Siegrid waves back. “Hello,” she returns the greeting, before she turns to the vampires in the room. “I don’t suppose someone would supply me with a drink? I just woke up, you see, and I’m rather parched.”

She gives them her most charming smile, the only one that Kol said _didn’t_ make her look like some kind of predator with too large teeth.

A few minutes later she has a cup of warmed blood in her hands and is sitting on their couch while they gather around her, trying not to be obvious in their scheming.

They hadn’t wanted to give her blood at first, Siegrid guessing that they wanted to keep her dazed and weakened, but the Doppelgänger, Elena, had insisted, in a show of hospitality that Siegrid appreciated.

She wonders what they want from her.

She can guess, from the presence of a Doppelgänger, but confirmation would be nice.

The blood has helped greatly, every drop that passes her lips restoring strength, although she knows that she will need more to be fully recovered. This will have to suffice for now.

Damon, Elena, and Stefan sit on the couch across from her, Elena between the two vampires. Bonnie is standing off to the side, and is staring at Siegrid like she’s waiting for her to either pounce or start laughing maniacally. Caroline has claimed the armchair as her own and is sitting as prim as any lady upon it.

Siegrid takes another gulp of her blood and doesn't bother to wipe away the drops that fall down her chin to stain the top of her abominable dress. Bloodstains would only improve it.

“So,” she starts, after a too-long beat of silence. “You woke me up. Should I assume that this was not out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Something like that,” Damon says. “You see, we need your help.”

“With…?”

Damon gives her a charming look. “Klaus.”

“No,” Siegrid answers without hesitation.

“No?” Elena repeats incredulously.

“He locked you in a box,” Damon reminds her, “for _years_.” Leaning forwards, he asks her, “And you don’t want revenge for that?”

Siegrid thinks about it for a second, but answers before their expressions get _too_ hopeful. “I will have my revenge,” she tells them, picturing melting down Nik’s favorite weapon stash for jewelry—but somehow she doesn’t think that this is the kind of revenge that this group has in mind. “I won’t help you kill him.” At their stunned expressions she continues, “That is what you were going to ask me, yes? Kill him, or imprison him, help you with your probably-justified attempts at revenge?”

It is far from the first time that someone has turned to her to try and curb her husband’s more violative tendencies. Or to extract revenge, with her as ally or as pawn.

No attempt at either has ever ended well. For them.

Damon grimaces. “Something like that, yes.”

“He’s killing people,” Elena pleads with Tatia and Katerina’s face.

“I will not help you.” Siegrid apologizes to her, “I am sorry.”

Stefan stands abruptly. “Well,” he says, and withdraws a White Oak Ash Dagger from his jacket. “I guess you're useless.”

“Why do you always go for the violent option first nowadays?” Damon asks him. “I thought that was my job.”

Elena’s eyes dart her way and Siegrid sees the lack of surprise there. Were they always planning on daggering her if she refused to aid them?

Judging from the way that no one in the room looked particularly surprised, she guessed the answer is yes.

Siegrid takes another sip from her mug, draining the last of it and eyes the vampire consideringly.

He doesn’t seem overly old. Oh, neither he or his brother are new—unlike the blonde girl who can’t have been undead for long—but the both of them are certainly not old enough or strong enough to pose much of a challenge.

Or at least, she internally grimaces, not when she is well-fed and not weakened from daggering.

Still, needs must.

With a speed that the others in the room can barely track, she snatches the dagger from his hands and is back in her seat before anyone has anytime to react.

She twirls it in her hands, tests the grip, and is careful not to let it show how much that display has drained her already meager energy. “I think that I’ll hold onto this. Maybe bury it somewhere. Under a volcano, perhaps.”

Stefan looks down at his empty hand and scowls.

Damon squeezes his eyes shut. “Someone please tell me that I just imagined that.”

“Nope,” Caroline replies.

Blue eyes open and turn slowly towards Stefan, who doesn't bother to look contrite beyond glaring at Siegrid. Damon gives him a poisonous stare. “Stefan, if you weren’t my brother I would shove a stake down your throat.”

“Damon!” Elena rebukes.

“Don’t ‘Damon’ me, he just lost our only White Oak Dagger!”

Truthfully, Siegrid is a little peeved that they hadn’t expected that. They have been fighting against _Nik_ , surely they must give him a better fight if he hasn’t crushed them by now?

But then again, non-desperate people wouldn’t have woken her from her dagger-induced slumber so she would aid them in their quest.

Bonnie steps forwards and raises one hand, expression stony. “If you won’t help us,” she says, “then you can’t be awake.” And then clenches her outstretched hand into a fist and tries to bore a hold in Siegrid’s skull with her stare.

Nothing happens.

The others in the room start to shift uneasily; Siegrid simply crosses her legs at the knee—not the best idea in so short a dress, but she’s long past caring.

Another beat passes. She idly checks the edge of the blade and quietly tsks at it’s dullness. Does Niklaus not sharpen these things?

Blood begins to drip down from the witch’s nose and Siegrid decides that she’s still hungry. Very hungry. And she doubts that they had any plans for detaining her beyond the dagger and the witch’s magic.

She stands, the dagger in hand, and curtseys to her hosts. “As fun as this may be,” she tells their shocked expressions, “I should find my family. Apparently, it will not be difficult, if they are causing so much trouble.” Then she turns to leave.

“Wait!” the Doppelganger cries. And gods, she has the same voice, too.

Siegrid stops, but doesn’t turn back.

“You won’t help us with Klaus,” Elena says, “that’s fine.”

“It’s really not,” Damon mutters.

Elena ignores him. “But you owe us.”

Siegrid tilts her head to the side. Turning around, she addresses Elena. “I do?” she questions.

“Yeah,” Elena says, frail and human and staring down a thousand year old monster. “You do. We woke you up. Klaus would have left you to rot in that coffin, but we freed you. You owe us for that.”

Bold of her to presume a debt after trying to shove Siegrid back into that coffin herself.

The ancient vampire raises a brow and lets her expression do the talking. The others in the room wince or causally (obviously) slip into defensive positions. Elena only narrows her eyes, completely defiant.

Maybe she does have something in common with Tatia aside from her face.

Siegrid sighs. Weighs up the sheer amused admiration she always has for humans who stand against monsters like her versus the baffled annoyance that humans think they can stand against monsters like her.

And then decides the doppelgänger’s words are fair. Gods know that she appreciates being out of that box. She rather dislikes being treated as a favorite toy to pick up and put away whenever Nik pleases.

“I will not betray my family,” Siegrid says. “But, I suppose I do owe you a debt. Name it.”

Elena exchanges a look with her friends. “Do you guys have any ideas?” she asks quietly, though she must know that Siegrid can hear her. “I really didn’t think that would work.”

Siegrid’s wry huff is ignored.

Damon gives Elena a pleased smile. “You see, this is why _you're_ my favorite,” he tells her approvingly.

Stefan shrugs. “I don’t see what use she will be if she refuses to fight Klaus.”

“Are you completely unimaginative, brother? Surely having an Original who owes us a favor will come in some kind of handy.”

“Tell her she’s not allowed to kill anyone in town,” Bonnie demands, obviously a dutiful guardian.

Elena gives that some consideration.

“What? No, don’t waste it on that,” Damon argues.

Elena ignores him. “What Bonnie said, no killing humans in Mystic Falls.”

...is that where they are?

Siegrid is going to pretend that she knew that. “No self-defense clause?” she asks, not really expecting one, but Elena surprises her.

“No killing humans in Mystic Falls unless they attack you first,” she amends, understanding in her eyes.

“Done.” Tipping her head, Siegrid agrees before anyone else in the room can stop her.

“Crap! Elena!” Damon groans. “I take back the favorite thing, you’re being demoted.”

“Wait, why?” Caroline asks. “She agreed to no killing people.”

“No,” Damon hisses. “She agreed not to kill _humans_. And, just for example, that means she could rip out your spine, Blondie, and still have kept her word.”

Stefan laughs, meanly enough that Elena turns hurt eyes on him. “She only agreed to not kill humans in Mystic Falls, too. Nothing about anywhere else.”

Elena turns a betrayed expression on her and Siegrid smiles. “I will keep my word,” she assures her, and knows that her smile isn’t reassuring at all. “Now. If someone would show me to the door? Oh, and what year is it now?”

Damon stands. “It’s 2009,” he tells her. “How long were you in that box?” He offers her his arm and Siegrid automatically takes it.

“Hm, that’s not bad, actually,” Siegrid muses to herself. “Only twenty years.”

“That’s not bad?” Caroline parrots incredulously. “Twenty years isn’t bad?”

There would be good money on the blonde vampire not being older than twenty even including her human life. A twenty year nap _would_ seem odd to her.

“No,” Siegrid says, thinking of Finn and Kol and poor Rebekah. “Not really.”

Damon escorts her to the door, which was in the opposite direction that she had originally tried to leave by. Judging from Damon’s smirk, he had realized that as well. Siegrid snorts a quiet laugh.

“You _sure_ you don’t want revenge?” he murmurs to her. “It could be fun,” he tempts.

Siegrid smirks back at him. “It will be, but I still will not help you.”

Damon shrugs. “Had to try.”

The rest of the rebellion against Niklaus trails behind them. Bonnie glaring daggers, a handkerchief pressed to her nose, Stefan eyeing the dagger in her hands, and Elena and Caroline both sending looks at Damon.

“Oh! And if you could get your brother to back off, I would appreciate it!” Caroline adds.

Siegrid blinks at her in surprise. “My brother?”

“Klaus!” Caroline answers impatiently. “The jewelry, the dresses, the calling me ‘love,’ it’s getting weird!”

Damon scoffs. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love the attention, Blondie. I saw you two at the Grille. He wasn’t the only one who looked into it.”

“Klaus?” Siegrid asks. “ _Nik_ laus?” She looks over the young vampire with her sweet face and her meticulous appearance and has to snort a little. Not Nik’s usual type, but…. Apparently it’s been a few years since Siegrid has last seen him. “Niklaus is… courting you?” she asks, just to make sure.

“Yes!” Caroline says. “He keeps giving me things! I don’t want to sleep with him!” Elena clears her throat, pointedly. “I mean,” Caroline amends guiltily, “he’s hot and all, but he tried to kill Elena and then turn her into his own personal blood machine--even if I bet he would be really good in bed.”

“Caroline!” the witch protests, only a little muffled by the cloth pressed to her face.

“What? He _is_ hot,” the blonde says. “ _Psycho_ , but hot. And if you would tell your other brother—Cole? Whatever, tell him to stop perving on Bonnie, too, please.”

Kol was here too?

“I’m afraid that I have little control over Kol, but he respects witches. He will not harm your friend without reason.”

Bonnie’s scowl is fearsome. “He’s giving _me_ reason.”

“And Klaus?” Caroline wheedles. “Can you call him off? Get him to stop. I mean, I’m flattered and all, but I think he’s too old for me. And a dick.”

“You don’t want him?” Siegrid asks, confused. “He wouldn’t court you if you have told him no.” Niklaus was a lot of things, but never someone who would force his bedmates.

“I have!” Caroline protests, but her eyes flick to Elena and Bonnie.

Oh, so that’s why Nik hasn’t given up. “You meant it?” Siegrid prods. “Not just because of what you feel your duty is, but because it is what you want?”

Caroline doesn't answer that one.

“Caroline, he’s _evil_ ,” the witch stresses.

Siegrid eyes her.

Did witches count as human? She wasn’t actually sure. Perhaps she could ask Kol, who is apparently undaggered and in town.

“I know, Bonnie,” Caroline waves her hands, “I know, don’t worry about it.”

Siegrid is not the only one who disbelieves her. “Don’t worry so much about it,” she tells the younger vampire. “My husband is very pretty, no one will fault you.”

They all freeze.

“What?” Damon asks, like he had misheard her.

“Your husband?” Elena demands.

“Pretty?” Bonnie echoes skeptically.

“Klaus? Married?” Stefan considers this for a moment. “Huh.”

“You… and—but, I don’t—he’s married?” Caroline splutters.

“Yes?” Siegrid says. “My husband, Niklaus.”

She remembers introducing herself, and she knows that she looks nothing like the rest of the family, did they truly think them related?

Siegrid’s hair is black and her eyes are pale enough that people think them grey. She looks nothing like the fair haired Niklaus and Rebekah or the far lighter brunet of Elijah, Finn, and Kol.

“He’s married,” Caroline repeats. “He’s married?!” she repeats again, but louder. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m the other woman!”

Elena puts a hand on her shoulder. “Caroline, it’s okay, you didn’t know. You’re not the other woman.”

“She kind of is,” Bonnie points out.

The witch, vampire, and Doppelgänger fall into a half-argument over what exactly construes as “the other woman”.

Siegrid watches them with amusement. They are very ...young, for all that the supernatural world has obviously taken its toll on them.

“You're not concerned about your husband cheating on you?” Stefan asks her, ignoring the other’s hysterics.

Raising an eyebrow, Siegrid grins at him. And this one is in no way polite. “We have been married for over a thousand years,” she reminds him. “I know he loves me and I care not who he takes to bed.”

“And does he feel the same way?” Damon asks, giving her a blatant once over, eyes lingering on her exposed legs.

Siegrid snorts a laugh. “No,” she says.

Nik was a jealous man, possessive of what he considered his and Siegrid has been his for longer than they’ve been immortal. He was hers in return, although she could care less who he bedded so long as his heart remained in her possession.

Truly, Nik was lucky she didn’t actually like other people all that much—or rather, the world’s population was lucky she didn’t like other people all that much. She suspects there would be far fewer lives in it.

“That just doesn’t seem fair,” Damon tells her. Siegrid lifts a shoulder. “And you _don’t_ want to help us?” he checks.

“I married the man for his sword skills, not his personality,” she jokes, as if she didn’t adore her husband and all of his strange and annoying ways.

Damon raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like a euphemism.”

Siegrid grins. It’s more a display of her teeth. “It’s not. Niklaus is beautiful with a weapon in hand. I love fighting him.” She pauses, considering. “I suppose it is a euphemism, too,” she allows.

“Fighting, huh?” Damon looks past her overly maidenly dress—despite it being both bloodstained and in tatters—to her muscled arms and thighs. He whistles. “I could believe it.”

Siegrid smirks in a way that she knows draws attention to the scar on her chin. It extends from the underside of her jaw to the right corner of her mouth and is a ragged thing that had only healed so well because her then-future mother-in-law was a talented witch.

“Best be careful,” she jests. “Haven’t you heard? I have a jealous husband.”

Damon’s eyes catch first on her scar, then on her smirk.

Caroline’s voice interrupts them. “I’m so sorry! I mean it’s Klaus’ fault and he never told me he was married, but!”

Siegrid only stares at her calmly until she falls silent and starts nervously shuffling on her feet.

Both Bonnie and Elena look like they’d dearly wish to pull their friend behind them in case Siegrid takes offense and attacks. Stefan looks bored with the proceedings, although when Siegrid readjusts her grip on her dagger, he perks up slightly.

Damon is only watching the scene with a dark kind of amusement, Siegrid’s arm still threaded through his, although it does tighten minisculely when Caroline draws closer, like he’s prepared to try and yank Siegrid away from the blonde.

“Nik is not the best at courting women, good luck.” At Caroline’s blank look, Siegrid tells her, “Do as you please. But if Nik gives you any trouble in such matters feel free to threaten him with my name.”

Then she turns to finally leave.

Damon walks her out, studying her the entire time. They come to a stop at the edge of the property.

“Why aren't you mad?” Damon asks finally.

Siegrid tilts her head at him.

“Klaus has you in that coffin for twenty years. Everyone else in his family tried to kill him after they woke up, but you just shrug and move on? I’m not buying it.”

Siegrid hums thoughtfully. “I am angry. Very much so.”

He gives her a disbelieving look.

Siegrid lets her polite expression sharpen, and fangs poke at her bottom lip. There is something wary in his gaze now, when she says, “I am angry. And Niklaus will pay for daggering me in my sleep.”

“Ouch,” Damon winces. “Didn’t even do it to your face, huh?”

“No. He waited until I was asleep in his arms.”

Damon winces harder. “Yeah, really don’t know why you don’t want to kill him.”

“I assume he did it out of some misguided attempt to protect me, and I therefore am willing to let him try to defend himself first. He will have came up with some kind of excuse over the years, I’m sure, although we shall see if it is good enough.”

Realization sparks in blue eyes and Damon gives a startled laugh. “You’re giving him enough rope to hang himself by,” he says, entertained. “Klaus is going to be in for quite a surprise when you walk in, isn’t he?”

Siegrid does not restrain her grin. “I love my husband,” she admits easily. “But he does not get to decide which battles I fight.”

“Well,” Damon says leadingly. “If you ever change your mind….” He smirks at her conspiratorially.

Siegrid nods to show her understanding. “I will not harm you,” she says, sudden in her decision. “You have done me a favor by waking me, even if it was to oppose my husband. If you or your friends require aid, I will give it—provided that such will not harm my family.”

Damon blinks at her, speechless. “Wait, what?” he asks when he has recovered. “I mean—far be it from me to look a gift favor in the mouth, but why would you help us? You have got to know that we didn’t undagger you for you.”

“You were far from the worst of my captors,” Siegrid says and then leaves to track down her wayward family.

**Author's Note:**

> Siegrid's thought process:
> 
> Siegrid: Alone? No shackles? Conveniently unguarded escape route?
> 
> Siegrid: Must be a trap. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Mystic Falls Gang: I thought /you/ were on guard duty.


End file.
